Chapter Text
The golden-stained waters of the River Styx bore an all too familiar reflection for Melinoë. Many days, many nights, this trip recurred - each time, aided by different Olympians, bolstered by unique combinations of her arcana, wielding new aspects of the Nocturnal Arms. The boatman Charon keeping a watchful eye, Lord Moros overseeing her expeditions, Headmistress waiting in the Crossroads for her return... And, of course, the delightfully lax Frinos hopping along by her side. Standing before her watery entryway, a hand instinctively drifted towards the amphibian’s head, giving him a gentle pat of assurance.
“This is it, Frinos. All that I have been taught, the miseries I confided in you... It culminates in this. I’m sure you’ve heard it many a time before, but once more for good measure - Death to Chronos.” Rarely did Melinoë grant herself the opportunity to smile, but the sheer scope of her accomplishments had finally begun to set in. Her family’s rescue was imminent - her father freed from his chains, her brother no longer suspended in time, and the Underworld returned to its natural order. A rightful place in the House of Hades would finally exist for her.
Frinos simply croaked back. He never had much else to say, though it was enough for Melinoë.
And for what she imagined would be one final journey, the Underworld princess took a familiar plunge, diving headfirst into those tainted waters. The first night swimming through the Styx like this had been frankly miserable... but the many that followed merely transformed this irksome errand into a part of her routine. Chronos likely aimed to irritate her by forcing this passage upon her... though despite being Time itself, he somehow failed to understand that a routine of that sort would bring a twisted sense of comfort. Each stroke further cemented her heritage, the Styx itself feeling like a second home.
The halls of the house itself remained garish as ever, Chronos refusing to put his renovations on pause. Though it pained Melinoë to see such a noble institution desecrated so deeply, it instilled a sense of karmic justice within her. When Lim and Oros finally tore into the Titan of Time, his demise would be far from a spectacle, that last dying gaze met only by his killer... and by himself. Those satyr minions of his never lasted long enough to witness his downfall, anyhow. In fact, Melinoë came to realize... Those minions proved absent tonight, the halls of the House emptier than ever. Even the grand golden throne lacked its usual guest. “... Chronos...?”
Then came the infernal echo, his piercing voice surrounding her from all sides. It brought an intensity beyond the usual candor, as if Chronos had drilled his influence directly into her skull. “I do not understand what foul witchcraft you have performed since our last bout, granddaughter, but you would be a fool if you hoped to deceive me. This magic of yours pales in comparison to the might of a Titan - I had hoped to disembowel you of your spirits first, but you have proved headstrong and reckless beyond reason. Let this be a showcase of all that you will come to regret - you will have ETERNITY to reflect on these feeble mistakes of yours.”
The witch often prided herself on an ability to locate her targets, a hunting instinct honed by both the Headmistress and the Silver Sisters. Yet the influence of Chronos was cloaked so heavily, the House of Hades saturated with magic in every conceivable pocket - Melinoë’s senses bore down on her, pressure pushing inward from every angle. “Nngh... For someone who speaks so haughtily... I would expect you to show yourself, grandfather. Meet my gaze so that you may remember the girl who would return you to your grave.”
He did not entertain a response. Melinoë counted one second, two... and then came a piercing whistle, a strike to the back. No... This cannot be it...! Scraps of vitality returned to her, and she spun to meet her assailant. All that came was another yellow beam of light, directly aimed at her chest. Hah. Taking the coward’s route. She dashed to the side, all senses alert for the next assault... yet no advance warning could save her. The barrage grew in intensity, light burning brighter than Melinoë’s eyes could stand, and she was struck down again. And again. Clinging to the last shreds of life, the witch now understood her only possible saving grace. “Return to sh–”
“No. You hold no chance at slipping from my grasp - not THIS time.”
Melinoë felt an ethereal force tighten around her, pressure squeezing her lips shut. Chronos had never displayed power to this extent. Even when he chose to torment her with visions of Asphodel, his grasp over her body was merely temporary. This... This felt nigh inescapable, try as she might. Fr... Frinos... The thought echoed in her head, eyes attempting to break away from their current spot. The frog that sat by her side just a minute prior... he now took on an altered state of rest just beyond her range of vision, offering no solace to the princess of the Underworld.
“You shall drown in the same failure that plagued your brother, and your father before you. Only then will you come to understand the scope of your pitiable actions. Enjoy eternity, Melinoë, for I intend to keep you tethered here at all costs.”
... Eternity proved to be a difficult concept to grasp. Melinoë sat for days, years, hours, weeks, before a sense of fatigue began to wash over her. What sort of energy did she exert from remaining motionless? Did this take any physical toll on her at all? The mental toll was one thing, but that had been circulating within already. Wallowing in this recursive pit of apologies, mentally writing her letter of resignation to Headmistress Hecate... It did her no good, and it only served to aid Chronos in tormenting her. Understanding this state of quasi-suspension might help her to break free, but her tools for research were limited. Perhaps giving into fatigue, taking time to rest... It could grant her some much-needed insight.
Melinoë did not remember falling asleep. All that came to her was the sudden cold embrace of the ground, dewy grass padding her fall as raindrops tumbled down through the treetops of Erebus. Eyes shooting open, the princess registered only one color: red. Blood. Oh gods. Various outcomes floated through her mind, a multitude of scenarios playing out in grim detail for her speculative side. Yet there existed no proof with which to subsist. One last option would dawn on her, though the words left a sickening taste upon her tongue as she weakly murmured that familiar phrase.
“Re-Return t– ... Return to shadow... now.”